


Shower

by deathlysaurus



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9532610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlysaurus/pseuds/deathlysaurus
Summary: A very skillful short fic I once wrote into a friend's askbox in Tumbrl. Optimus is dirty, and Ratchet even dirtier. They both need a shower.





	

Ratchet watched the Prime moan quietly from the common wash rack’s door, his own systems steadily heating by the sight of water trickling down the big, delicious frame. Optimus was obviously unaware of the medic standing in the entrance, watching his Prime stroke the rather massive spike. “Ratchet...” the semi moaned, and for the moment the medic thought he’d been spotted. He stood there silently, and when nothing changed aside from Optimus picking up his pace, he smirked. Well, that was unexpected. And hot.

With a smug grin, the ambulance stepped forwards, “you called me?” His question startled the Prime, his offlined optics flashing open with a jerk of his head. Ratchet tilted his own and looked up to the somewhat shocked and embarrassed truck former, still grinning, and slowly reached his hand to hover over the tip of the heated spike, “may I help you with that?” 

For a moment Optimus just stared, blinking his optics to get droplets of water off of them, he hesitated before nodding, “yes, you may.” Ratchet gladly removed the Prime’s digits from the spike before wrapping his around it. The semi moved his now free hand to the wall, leaning against it and his optics shuttered. With a gleeful smile on his lip plates, Ratchet started to pump the painfully erect spike, earning a breathy moan from the other mech.

Optimus tilted his head back, lips parting and his optics closed, he simply accepted the rare treat and just enjoyed someone else doing this to him. He let the pleasantly warm water brush against his face, and bucked his hips into the hand that was only increasing its pace. Oh frag it felt so good, the charge of his overload steadily building within his worked up systems. The medic couldn’t help but to chuckle as he watched the Prime, thumb brushing over the leaking tip of the spike.

The truck former got suddenly completely still, mouth open widely and his optics flashed white as he went over the edge, entering his powerful overload. Ratchet continued to stroke the twitching spike, milking out every drop of the transfluid that was spilled all over his hand and the Prime’s own plating. Not that he minded it; the still running water washed it away efficiently. Eventually the ambulance let go of the now wilting spike, a self-pleased smile spread over his faceplates. Optimus’ chuckle rumbled over the noise of the water, the Prime turned to look at Ratchet with a equally smug, lopsided grin “may you join me in my quarters?”


End file.
